


Le Vainquier

by greenstuff



Series: Places We Otherwise Wouldn't Go [2]
Category: Burnt (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenstuff/pseuds/greenstuff
Summary: Michel opens a new restaurant in London, and invites Adam and Tony to the opening.Fifth written, but chronologically second in the series.





	Le Vainquier

**Author's Note:**

> Set about a year after the movie. Adam and Tony have been together about 6 months. Mostly this was an excuse to write Reece being a sassy little shit (because who didn't have a sassy little Reece in their heads for years after "I've come to deliver last rites."?). 
> 
> I've had pieces of this sitting on my phone/computer for actually years. I think I had grand ideas once upon a time of spinning this out into a fully plotted fic. Instead, I've decided Reece and his sass and Adam and his inappropriate coping mechanisms can stand alone. If a muse strikes me, I can always add content to the series later :)

"Something for you," Tony holds out a thick, expensive envelope.

"Read it to me." Adam gives the whisk a final flick before pouring the eggs into the pan.

Tony slides one finger along the flap. It opens easily and he pulls out the single sheet of richly textured paper out. "It's an invitation. It appears Michel has found new investors and they are relaunching Le Vainquier." Tony raises an eyebrow. "He signed this personally. Il est rien qu'un petit connard, non?"

Adam laughs. "When is it?"

"Saturday. At least he gave you a plus one."

 "Oh fuck, does that mean I have to find a nice girl to take. I don't think Helene has recovered from the last time."

Tony swats him with the invitation. "Oh no, Helene is mine. I thought you should bring David."

 "Your... What?" Adam abandons the eggs to stare at Tony.

"He invited me as well, also with a plus one."

 "Bastard!" Adam removes the pan from heat and slams it on the stovetop with a bang.

"He is not exactly your biggest fan."

Adam divides the omelette into two portions, adding pico de gallo and feta to each before passing a plate to Tony. "Michel is a prick. But we should go, if only to dust his crudité with cayenne."

"He would deserve it." Tony grumbles.

Over breakfast they agree they should go, but Adam insists they go together. "At least then one of us can have the pleasure of RSVPing no."

"David will be crushed." Tony teases.

 "Well Helene would be no use in keeping you from getting in a fight with Michel."

Tony starts to protest, "I would neve--" but Adam's raised eyebrow stops him, "I might be tempted." He admits.

"No more than he would deserve." Adam presses a kiss against Tony's temple as he clears away his plate.

. . .

Michel's new dining room is cavernous. In a cliché of industrial chic, everything is exposed brick - though the building itself is not brick so it's obviously been installed just to make the space feel effortless - raw wood, and brushed steel.

Adam doesn't like it, but he can see how the white plates of bright food will pop against all of the shiny faux-roughness, and he can appreciate the aesthetic, even if he can't quite link it to the Michel he used to know.

Tony hates it – like most everything about Michel – and spends most of the first five minutes muttering grouchily about how Michel can't possibly expect to fool anyone with all this tat.

Adam swallows a laugh and uses the arm he’s twined around Tony’s waist to pull him closer. "Play nice," He whispers against Tony's hair.

"I am the best Maitre d' in Europe, I think I can handle nice." Tony mutters. But when Michel approaches them with a broad smile that doesn't even try not to gloat, Adam can feel every muscle in Tony's body tense.

Adam rests a hand on the small of Tony's back, under his jacket to better transmit warmth and comfort through the thin cotton of Tony's dress shirt. He extends the other to Michel. "Congratulations. The place looks great."

Tony's left eye twitches, but he leans into Adam's touch just a little and manages to bear his teeth in what could, from a distance, be mistaken for a smile.

"Merci, Adam." Michel leans in as if to buss Adam's cheek but catching sight of Tony's hard brown eyes thinks better of it. "I am so very glad you both could come." He turns his attention to Tony, clasping the shorter man's reluctantly extended hand in both of his. "I was so disappointed when I received your RSVP Tony, but I see you finally got him after all these years."

Adam briefly thinks Tony might hit Michel after all. He can feel Tony's muscles coil. He slides the hand he was resting against Tony's back around to hook in the front belt loop of Tony's trousers, stepping just a hair behind Tony so he is pulling Tony back against his shoulder. It’s the closest to public cuddling they have ever come. "At events like these it's best to keep greetings short and sweet, non?"

Michel's eyes flick from Adam's hand resting just above Tony's hip bone to the cold, calm of Adam's face. He inclines his head. "Just so. Enjoy your evening."

"Drink?" Tony asks.

Adam wonders if tonight is going to be one where he quietly watches Tony get very drunk. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, Adam can't suppress the image of Tony sitting in the kitchen, barely capable of staying on his stool after the disastrous night with fucking Richard the Straight Opportunist. It always hurts, that memory. Adam never met Richard, has no idea what Richard looks like. On the rare occasion Tony gets well and truly sloshed, Adam knows this is a very good thing because if he ever saw Richard in the street, he would kill him; probably without a second thought.

Tony is staring at him with an eyebrow arched. "Drink?" He repeats as if Adam has suddenly gone stupid.

"Club soda, thanks." Adam says around the tight ball of anger in his throat at the thought of Tony's face, confused and hurt all because he had the misfortune of knowing Adam Jones.

 "I was rather hoping one of you would hit him. These kinds of parties are ever so dull." Reece says, slipping into the space Tony just vacated.

Adam laughs easily. “You know you don’t have to come just because you’re invited.”

“Me, miss Michel’s big night?” Reece’s smile is practically feral. "I never congratulated you, did I?"

"I got the flowers. The dandelion greens were a nice touch."

"Entirely edible. Please tell me you didn't just put them in a vase and let all those delicious nutrients die."

"Would I still be here if I hadn't?"

"Such distrust."

"Remind me, how long have we known each other?"

Reece laughs. "Anyway, I didn't mean the restaurant, you arrogant twat. I was just standing over there, watching your man fight your battles and thinking how very very nice all that passion is when I realized: I never said congratulations. I really can't fault your taste. He's so... mmm proper. Really, how could you resist? It's a bit like bedding a priest, I imagine."

Adam is seconds away from punching the smug look off Reece's face when Tony appears, pressing a glass of soda water into Adam's hand and holding a bit too long once Adam's fingers touch his. Adam's anger visibly deflates and Reece's eyes light up.

"Ah, Tony, timing perfect as ever. I do believe I would be choking on my own blood about now if you hadn't shown up. Please call off your dog."

Tony settles against Adam's side and takes a leisurely sip of wine. "Reece, pleasure to see you. How's the restaurant?"

"Fucking dreadful as you well know. Can't find a competent saucier since Michel stole Florian. Bastard! You know I used to feel sorry for him about the rats, but now I say, 'well done you!'"

It's a bit rich, considering Reece has tried to steal Helene at least three times in the year since Adam got his third star, but his flair for the dramatic has always been his best asset in the kitchen. "You should be thanking him." Adam says, fighting a grin. "You were getting soft and boring all over again."

" _I_ was getting soft? Look at the two of you, fucking _syrup_ you are. If you were any more loved-up you'd be... Toss it, you're already unbearable. Just walking around, the exception that proves Sod's law. I should have just let you poach that ridiculous head of yours."

"Don't say things you don't mean." Adam says, his voice light and amused. "You know you need me."

"Fucking unbearable!" Reece exclaims. "Christ, I need another whisky." He doesn't say goodbye, just turns and weaves his way to the bar.

"Poach your head?" Tony looks like he wants to laugh but can't quite understand the joke.

Adam winces inwardly. Apparently tonight is one for ghosts. "There was an... incident, the night Michel..." He runs a hand over the back of his head as he tries to find the words to make light of it all, to keep Tony from feeling any of the pain of that night.

There is a familiar glint in Tony's eyes and Adam wonders for a moment whether it's Reece or Michel Tony is planning to murder before deciding it's probably a terrible plan to just _stand_ here in a room filled with both chefs, and nearly all of their respective investors and let Tony slowly, quietly stew in his rage until it erupts.

Tony's temper doesn't show itself often. He's extremely good at dampening down his emotions around most people, subsuming blistering rage into politeness so icy it should cut, but he has his limits and Adam suspects that the combination of irritants and alcohol at this party is going to be disastrous. "Come with me," he says in an undertone before stepping off through the crowd. He assumes Tony is following but he doesn't look. He's trying not to be too conspicuous. This really only works if no one knows what they're up to until it's too late to stop it without being Painfully Awkward.

. . .

Tony follows Adam without even thinking about it. It isn't until Adam pulls him through the toilet door and pins him against it that he realizes what is happening. And then it's too late to really protest because while one part of his brain is squealing indignantly about public places and toilets and _people_ will _hear_ , the majority of his blood is racing south and thinking _yes_. Please. Why aren't we naked yet?

Most importantly, the rage at Michel and Reece and the world in general that had been tinting the edges of his vision red vanishes completely, absorbed by the press of Adam's fingers and lips against his skin. It should be quick, dirty and muffled and racing to the finish before anyone can hear or see or guess, but Adam has other plans.

Adam wraps his work roughened fingers around Tony's wrists and pins Tony's arms above his head. A tiny voice in Tony's brain points out helpfully that anyone walking in can see his pale hands extending above the wall of the stall, fingers limp as he lets Adam manipulate him into place. But when Adam releases Tony's wrists to skate his hands down over Tony's arms, Tony doesn't move. He's just tipsy enough, and shattered enough, that he is pathetically grateful Adam wants to control this. Even as he's puzzled over just what _this_ is. They've been dating a little over six months and before tonight the closest they have come to doing anything like this in public was that time in the elevator, and really at two am on a Tuesday that was a private as anywhere.

Unless you count the kitchen of course, but Tony had always considered the kitchen Adam's and they never dared when anyone could possibly overhear. So, sex in a toilet is... unprecedented. But Adam is loosening Tony's tie and seeking out the warm flesh underneath with his fingers and then his lips and Tony finds himself wondering why the fuck they haven't done this before.

And then with no warning at all, Adam's hands are undoing Tony's belt, flicking open his fly and pushing his trousers down to his knees. Tony's hands drop to Adam's head, his shoulders, affirming that yes, it’s still Adam, he’s here, this isn't some wet dream. And then Adam is pulling down Tony's pants and painting wet stripes along the length of his cock.

"Fuck!" Tony exclaims before biting his lip fiercely to stop any other noise from escaping.

He doesn’t last long. Adam knows just how to take him apart with tongue and lips and fingers. Tony comes almost silently, one hand tangled in Adam’s hair, the other pressed firmly over his mouth to cut off any noise. Adam swallows and then surges up to kiss him and Tony tries to get his hands on Adam’s cock (it’s only fair after all).

 Adam captures his wrists and steps back putting at least a foot between them. “We should get back out there before Reece puts two and two together and decides to use this to spice up Michel’s big night.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So much love to everyone who is still reading and writing in this little fandom. I get a little thrill every time I get a kudos notification. I never really thought anyone would jump onto this ship, let alone a great group of talented writers and genres readers. <3 to all of you.


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